Nightfall (7 page)

      “You're way off,” Vanning said. “I'm too mature for the Rover Boy act. I'm too scared to be angry. And I have enough common sense to realize that eventually I'll be dead if I don't tell you where that money is. That's why it's such a rough situation. I don't know where it is and there's no way I can convince you of the fact.”
      John sighed again. He said, “I've been in this game a long time. I was sent up once for seven years. When they let me out I made up my mind to play level. It lasted for a while. I worked for a brewing outfit in Seattle. I met a girl. I don't remember, maybe I was happy. Anyway, my health was good, I had an appetite, I hardly ever took a drink. Then I began to see things. The way so many people let themselves wide open for a smart play. Even the big people. So you can figure out what happened to me. I went back to the old game. Just jockeying around at first. A few gasoline stations, a store now and then. Then a small bank in Spokane. And then a bigger bank in Portland. Finally the important job in Seattle. And that was going to be the last transaction.”
      “Even this won't do you any good,” Vanning said. “How can you sell me something when I'm in no position to buy?”
      As if Vanning had not interrupted, John went on, “It was going to be the last. After the split and expenses, I figured on a little more than two hundred grand for myself. And then I'd wait awhile until things blew over and I'd go back to Seattle and get in touch with that girl. Look. I'll show you something.”
      Holding the revolver at his side, John used his other hand to extract a wallet from a hip pocket. He opened the wallet, handed it to Vanning. Under celluloid there was a picture of the girl. She was very young. Maybe she wasn't even twenty. Her hair came down in long, loose waves that played with her shoulders. She was smiling. The way her face was arranged it was easy to see that she was a little girl, and skinny, and probably not too brilliant.
      Vanning handed back the wallet. He bit his lower lip in a thoughtful way and he said, “She's pretty.”
      “Good kid.” John replaced the wallet in his pocket.
      “Does she know?”
      “She knows everything.”
      “And where does that leave her?”
      “Up a tree, for the time being,” John said. “But she doesn't care. She's willing to wait. And then we're going away together. You know what I always wanted? A boat.”
      “Fishing?”
      “Just going. In a boat. I know about boats. I worked on freighters tripping back and forth between the West Coast and South America. Once I worked on a rich man's yacht. I've always wanted my own boat. That Pacific is a big hunk of water. All those islands.”
      “I've seen some of them.”
      “You have?” John leaned forward. He was smiling with interest.
      “Quite a few of them. But I didn't have time to concentrate on the scenery. There was too much activity taking place. And smoke got in the way.”
      John nodded. “I get it. But just think of working out from the West Coast with all that water to move around in. All those islands out there ahead. A forty-footer with a Diesel engine. And go from one island to another. And look at them all. No real estate agent to bother me with the buildup. Just look them over and let them give me their own build-up. And let me make my own choice.”
      “You wouldn't stay long.”
      “You don't know me.”
      “You don't know yourself. You'd start thinking about another bank and another three hundred thousand. You're built that way, John. It's not your fault.”
      “Whose fault is it?”
      “Who knows? Something must have happened when you were a kid. Not enough playgrounds in your town.”
      John grinned. “You talk like a defense attorney. It's a funny thing. I like you. You're game. You don't make a lot of noise. You can handle yourself. Maybe I'll take you along on my boat.”
      “I'll be looking forward to it.”
      John twisted his face and stared past Vanning. “I'll bet we could actually strike up a friendship. What do I call you?”
      “Jim.”
      “Cigarette, Jimmy?”
      “Okay.”
      And then after the cigarettes were lit, John said, “That's what I have in mind. That boat. And you're wrong about my coming back. I'd never come back. Just that little island and the girl and me. We'd have everything two people need. Figure it out.”
      “That's what I'm doing,” Vanning said. “And there's a piece in there that doesn't fit. The money. Why would you need all that money?”
      “The boat. Supplies. General expenses. It adds up.”
      “It doesn't hit a couple hundred thousand. Nowhere near that. If we made an itemized list you'd see how little you needed.”
      “We'll do that later,” John said. “After I have the money.”
      Vanning hauled at the cigarette. He liked what was happening. It was giving him time, and he wanted that more than anything else. With time he could think, and with enough thinking there would be some sort of plan. Up till now the atmosphere had exhibited a completely hopeless quality. And now he had reason to think there might be a way to go on living.
      “When I have that boat,” John said, “I won't wait. I'll get on the boat with her and we'll shove off. Did you ever stop to think how cities crowd you? They move in on you, like stone walls moving in. You get the feeling you'll be crushed. It happens slow, but you imagine it happens fast. You feel like yelling. You want to run. You don't know where to run. You think if you start running something will stop you.”
      “I don't mind cities,” Vanning said.
      “Cities hurt my eyes. I don't like the country, either. I like the water. I know once I get on that water, going across it, going away, I'll be all right. I won't be nervous any more.”
      “You don't seem nervous.”
      “My nerves are in bad shape,” John said. “I have a devil of a time falling asleep. How do you sleep?”
      “The past eight months haven't been so good.”
      “You'll sleep fine after we get this deal cleared up.”
      “I guess so.”
      “How about it, Jimmy?”
      Vanning squeezed the cigarette, watched the burning end detach itself from unlit tobacco, watched shreds of tobacco dripping from the paper shell. Emotion became an unknown thing, replaced now by curiosity. He wanted John to go on talking. He wanted an explanation of that sequence in Denver, the peculiar combination of revolver and satchel and empty room. But he couldn't ask about that. If he did ask, and if John gave him an answer, he would be strangely obligated to John, and he couldn't afford to be placed in that position. He had nothing to offer in return.
      “I'm thinking about it,” he said.
      “That's fine,” John said, and there was a faint touch of desperation in his voice. “You go on thinking about it. Don't worry about it. Just give it some thought. We'll figure out something.”
      They traded smiles, and John went on talking about the boat. He got to talking about boats in general. He seemed to know his boats. They stayed with the boats for a while and then they gradually came back to the business at hand.
      “Funny,” John said, “how we spotted you tonight.”
      “It was funny and it was clever.”
      “Why clever?”
      “The girl,” Vanning said.
      “What girl?”
      “Come on,” Vanning said, and his heart climbed to the top of a diving platform and waited there.
      “Oh,” John said. “That girl. That girl in the restaurant. I didn't get a good look at her. What about her?”
      “That's the point,” Vanning said. “What about her?”
      “You ought to know.”
      “All I know is, she couldn't have worked it better. I'm not the smartest man around by a long shot, but I don't get fooled like that very often.”
      John laughed. “You're nowhere near it,” he said. “She wasn't working with us. We never saw her before.”
      “I don't see why you're trying to save her face.”
      “Maybe you'll want to see her again. Maybe you like her.”
      “Crazy about her,” Vanning said. “Why shouldn't I be? Look at all she's done for me. I ought to buy her a box of orchids.”
      “You make it sound as if it's important.”
      “It's important because it's one of those things that makes a man want to kick himself. Bad enough that I talked to her in the first place. What hurts the most is that I let her take me down a street with only one small light on it.”
      “Maybe it's all for the best,” John said. “Now we'll get the whole thing straightened out and everything will be fine.”
      “And dandy. Don't forget the dandy.”
      “Fine and dandy,” John said, and he grinned, and then he stopped grinning.
      Because Vanning was in there, too close to him, and Vanning was moving, Vanning's hand sliding out, going toward the revolver, veering away from the revolver as it came up, closing over John's wrist. And Vanning twisted John's wrist, twisted hard, and the revolver flew out of John's hand as Vanning twisted again. Then Vanning chopped a short right that caught John on the side of the head. As John tried to straighten, Vanning clipped him again, and a third time, and John was going down, hitting the edge of the bed, trying to get up.
      Vanning allowed him to get halfway up, allowed him to start opening his mouth. Then Vanning reached back, hardened his right hand, sent it in on a straight line, direct and clean and exploding. John's eyes closed and John sagged, reached the floor, rolled over and stayed there.
      Vanning stepped to the window and looked down. There was a ledge a few feet below. He climbed out of the window and placed himself on the ledge, looked down, saw another ledge, descended to that as he noticed the way the porch roof was placed. He was going down. Hanging from fingertips, he worked his way to a spot reasonably close to the porch roof, then let go. He didn't make much noise as he hit the porch roof, but it seemed like thunder. He waited there, and the echo of the thunder passed away and there was no more noise. He jumped from the porch roof, and he was wondering if they had left the ignition keys in the green sedan.

6

      There was another ferryboat, much larger than the first one. And the big wave was moving in again. Fraser opened his eyes, twisted his head and saw a gleam of gray-lavender slicing through the venetian blinds. He rolled over and got out of bed, and immediately his wife was awake and sitting up.
      “I'm getting dressed,” Fraser said.
      “So early?”
      “I shouldn't have left him last night.”
      “Get back in bed.”
      “No,” he said. “I've got to make sure.” He moved toward the dresser. He opened a drawer and took out a tan leather case with a long strap attached to it. He dressed quickly, slung the strap over his shoulder, and he looked as though he was headed for the races at Jamaica.
      “Breakfast?” she said.
      “No, I don't have time.”
      “A glass of orange juice?”
      “No,” he said. “Thanks, honey, but this is on the double.”
      “Call me,” she said. “I want to know.”
      He nodded and hurried out of the room. He was impatient in the elevator and more impatient on the street that was quite empty and especially empty in regard to taxis. He had to walk a block before he spotted one.
      The taxi took him down to Greenwich Village, stopped a half block away from where he wanted to go. He walked quickly the rest of the way, entered a house across the street from Vanning's place, ran up to the room he had rented for the purpose of watching Vanning's room. He opened the leather case and took out a pair of binoculars.
      At the window he held the binoculars to his eyes and focused on Vanning's room. He saw the empty room and a bed that had not been slept in. He stood there at the window with the binoculars against his eyes and the empty room looked back.
      He put the binoculars back in the case. They were wonderful binoculars. They had cost plenty and if they weren't so valuable he would have kept them in this room, but the house was a shabby place and some of these tenants had a habit of visiting other rooms by means of a skeleton key. Now, however, he didn't particularly care if someone took the binoculars. He left the case on a table and walked out of the room.
      There was a need for talking to someone, and Fraser decided to call Headquarters.' Downstairs there was a pay phone, and he inserted a coin, moved his hand toward the dial, discovered that he was not calling Headquarters, but his wife. She must have been sitting near the phone and waiting for the call, because she answered at once.
      “He's gone,” Fraser said.
      “Are you sure?”
      “I tell you he's gone.”
      “Please don't get excited.”
      “I've ruined it.”
      “Please—”
      “I was too sure of myself. When I left him last night I could have sworn he'd head for his room and go to sleep. He'd been working at his board. He had an appointment today with an art director. I had it all checked. I was so sure. I'm gifted that way, I always know what I'm doing. I'm terrific—”
      “Now cut it out, will you?”
      “I think I'll resign—”
      “Stop it. Come on home—”
      “No,” Fraser said. “I feel like taking a walk. I know where there's a grammar school around here. I think I'll enroll in kindergarten.”
      “Stay there. Maybe he'll come back.”
      “No, he's gone.”
      “I said stay there.”
      “Do you still like me?”
      “Yes.”
      “Do you?” he asked. “Really?”
      “Yes, dear.”
      “I don't think there's much to like. I shouldn't be giving you my troubles.”
      “If you didn't I wouldn't like you. But do you want me to like you a great deal?”
      “Yes,” Fraser said, “I want you to like me very much.”
      “Then stay there.”
      “He won't come back.”
      “Maybe he will. Please stay there.”
      “What for?”
      “There's a chance—”
      “I don't think so. I think they got him.”
      “Who?”
      “Those other men. It's the first time he hasn't come home. What other kind of work do you think I'm fitted for?”
      “I'm getting very angry at you.”
      “Maybe I'll go down to Headquarters.”
      “I don't want you to do that.”
      “I've got to go down there. I've got to tell them. Tell them now. Get it over with. Get the whole goddamn thing over with. I'm going down—”
      “No—”
      “See you later—”
      “I said no. Stay on the phone. Don't you hang up—”
      “Why?”
      “I want to talk to you.”
      “What about?”
      “Us.”
      “You and me?”
      “And the kids,” she said.
      “All right, talk. I'll listen.”
      “I have faith in you,” she said. “You're the finest man I've ever known. Sometimes I feel like walking up to strangers and telling them all about my husband. And the kids are so proud of you. And I'm so proud—”
      “You ought to see me now.”
      “Does it mean anything when I say I have faith in you?”
      “It makes me feel worse,” he said. His voice was very low. He had lived a fairly quiet life, considering the field he was in, and aside from the technical excitement and ups and downs he had suffered no more disappointments and setbacks than the average man. He had been able to take all that without too much grief or self-dislike, but now he was extremely despondent and he was rather close to hating himself. Not for what he had done to himself, but the connection between the ruin of his career and the future of his wife and children. He had a feeling that right at this point his family was very insecure. And not because Headquarters would kick him out. They wouldn't kick him out. He had been with them too long. His record was excellent.
      That was it. His record was much too excellent. They'd pat him on the back and tell him to forget all about this one. They'd tell him to take a week off and get a rest and come back refreshed. But he wouldn't come back that way. He would come back with the rigid, icy knowledge that he was going downhill. And already he was descending. The moment he walked into Headquarters to report this matter, he would be going downward at a terrific rate, with no support or elevation in sight. And that was what he had to do. He had to tell Headquarters about this, and immediately.
      “I've got to hang up now,” he said. “I'm going to Headquarters.”
      “Will you do something for me?” There was a desperation in her voice and it was as though she had seen inside his mind. “Will you wait there another hour? Just give it another hour. Please, for me.”
      “That's against regulations. We've got to report these things right away.”
      “I'm asking you to gamble.”
      “High stakes,” he said. And he meant it. Despite his record, despite his many years on the job, he couldn't defy routine procedure without taking the risk of being fired. Even though they liked him very much, they had a habit of taking this sort of thing quite seriously. Maybe they would throw him out, after all, just to set an example.
      “I know it's taking a big chance,” she said. “But do it anyway, for me.”
      He bit at the inside of his mouth. “An hour?”
      “Just an hour.”
      There was an odd certainty in her voice. He had to smile. It was a strained, weary smile. “You're selling me something,” he said. “You want me to think you're clairvoyant.”
      “Promise me you'll stay there an hour.”
      He waited for several moments, and then he said, “All right.”
      “You promise? Really?”
      “Yes.”
      And he put the receiver back on the hook. He walked up the dusty stairway, went into the room. He picked up the binoculars and moved toward the window.